Forget Me Not
by Tatsumaki-sama
Summary: It must be some irony that despite Batman being de-aged to an eight year old, his Rogue Gallery had a knack for picking on him.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Batman or any of its characters.  
 **Title:** Forget Me Not  
 **Summary:** It must be some irony that despite Batman being de-aged to an eight year old, his Rogue Gallery had a knack for picking on him.  
 **Rating** : T  
 **Warnings** : Potentially disturbing imagery, violence  
 **Author's Notes:** I unfortunately read an amazing de-aged Bruce Wayne story and I was inspired to write this little piece. This was also an excuse to write about tiny Bruce and the protective Bat Family who are trying to reconcile with the idea of a small sad defenceless Bruce. I'm also too lazy to figure out whether it was magic or time travel that caused a de-aged Bruce to end up in the present time.

* * *

Of all the villains they could have run into while buying new age-appropriate clothing for Bruce, it had to be the one villain who knew Bruce Wayne when he was a child.

Tommy Elliot or who was better known as Hush to the public was staring at Bruce with such a hunger that it alarmed Alfred. Bruce shrunk away, frightened and confused.

" That boy ... he looks like – like _him_. Like _Bruce_."

Warning signs immediately rang in Alfred's ears. " I don't know why you are interested in my great nephew James," he easily lied between his teeth. He tightened his grip on Bruce's wrist who instinctively gripped Alfred's sleeve harder. " But if you dare harm him – "

" Shut up, old man!" Hush punched him across the face, causing Bruce to cry out.

" Alfred!"

" Bring the boy to me."

Bruce fought to remain by Alfred's side, even attempting to bite at any groping hands, but one henchman dragged him away, placing right in front of Hush.

Trembling but refusing to give in to fear, Bruce glared up at him. " Don't touch Alfred," he hissed. Even at such a young age, Bruce managed to convey such authority in his voice.

But Hush wasn't paying attention to that. He reached forward with a gloved hand, brushing tenderly against Bruce's cheek. " Just like him," the man murmured.

Bruce shuddered and tried to back away if not for Hush grabbing the back of Bruce's head and pulling him close, his overcoat nearly enveloping around Bruce entirely. " I will take care of you now," Hush said, so soft and gentle that Alfred found it hard to believe a murderer could adopt such a tone.

Unfortunately for him, Bruce was not swayed. He delivered a swift kick to Hush's knee, trying to get the man to release him. " Let me go!" The scowl on Bruce's face was so reminiscent of Damian that Alfred thought he was seeing the younger Robin instead.

Alfred was very thankful they never would have found out what Hush would have done to Bruce because in the very next moment, Red Robin and Batgirl swooped in, crashing from above the ceiling.

After all the confusion was over and Hush was escorted out, Bruce remained glued to Alfred's side in the police car. And Alfred had no intention of letting the boy go. " That was very foolish of you speaking to that dangerous man like that," he sternly lectured. Bruce looked up at him. " Brave but foolish."

" He hurt you," Bruce simply stated. He was still frowning darkly. " And I won't let him take me away from you."

The bold declaration made Alfred blinked. His Bruce, always so stoic and emotionless, was a man of few words, even if he and Alfred both knew how much Bruce valued Alfred's companionship. To hear such vocal dedication from this young Bruce, defending him from a madman in spite of all the danger, was enough to touch Alfred's heart.

" Thank you, Master Bruce," was all he could say instead. Bruce smiled and suddenly, he looked like the eight year old he was meant to be.

~.~.~

" Go on, kid," the two-faced man drawled. Bruce tried not to shudder when he heard the sickly smooth screech of metal being sharpened somewhere behind him. " Tell ol' Batman your name. Tell him if he doesn't come soon, heads will start to roll."

He swallowed his fear. " My – my name is Bruce," he said, speaking into the phone, his voice barely trembling.

" Bruce, it's going to be okay," the man on the other line soothed. Now he was certain it was Dick Grayson. Even if his voice was all deep and gruff, Bruce recognized it was the same man who comforted him when he woke up in the cave, confused and lost, and carried him away to safety and back home to the Wayne Manor. " I won't let him hurt you. But I need you to be brave. Can you do that for me?"

There was something about the way Dick said it that made Bruce inexplicably trust him. " I will," he whispered.

" Good man. I'll get you out. Just hang in there."

Bruce nodded, even if Dick couldn't see him.

But the moment of peace did not last long as the two-faced man suddenly began to mutter to himself.

" Bruce? He said his name was Bruce ... like Bruce ... the Bruce we know ... your friend Bruce ... Bruce ... Bruce ..."

The two-faced man began chanting Bruce's name, twisting and turning his head as if he was listening to someone. Bruce couldn't help but turn around to look at him, wondering why the man was acting like this. There was no one else in this room, just the two of them, even after the two-faced man had grabbed him from the clothing store while his goons went after Dick and dragged him away just as the police were arriving.

" Bruce? What's going on?" Dick was asking.

" I – I don't know," he managed to say before the two-faced man swung his axe.

He screamed and dove to the floor, as far as his chains clamped around his wrists allowed him. Chips of wood flew at him as the two-faced man violently roared and hacked the table and chair and other furniture to bits, his words lost in the crash and turmoil. Bruce had dropped the phone in his panic and Dick was yelling somewhere across the room.

Bruce could only cover his head and hope that the axe wasn't going to hit him. He bit back a sob. He was trying to be brave. Just like Dick had asked him to but he was so scared and he didn't want to die and he wanted the pounding in his ears to stop and he wished the two-faced man would just go away and he wanted Dick to come get him and –

" Bruce! Bruce, it's all right. I'm here. I got you."

Slowly, he raised his head.

Dick was crouching in front of him, wearing the same strange black costume and cowl he had wore those nights ago. Behind him, the two-faced man was down and unmoving on the floor. The axe laid harmlessly on the floor, far away from the two-faced man. " Thank God you're okay," Dick breathed, just before he pulled Bruce into a hug.

The last time anyone had held him like this was his mother, just before –

Bruce buried his face into the crook of Dick's neck, releasing a shaky sob.

" I got you. I got you," Dick murmured into his hair. " I wouldn't let him hurt you. You're safe now."

He never felt more safer than in Dick's arms. " I know," Bruce whispered back.

~.~.~

In the beginning, Bruce thought he must be dreaming.

Because he never felt so happy, holding the hands of his parents, walking through the streets, like they always had.

Until the gunshot rang out and he was covered in blood with his parents dead at his feet.

He screamed, falling to his knees, trying to reach for his parents. Bat-like monsters appeared, clawing at his face, pushing him down.

Bruce fought. He could feel their skeletal hands around his neck. One of them was sitting on his chest, gnawing at his arm, sinking its dripping fangs into his skin. He ripped his arm away from the monster, crying out in pain as he felt his shoulder wrench out of position.

He tried to ignore the burning numbness that crept up his entire arm as he forced his legs to move but two tails snaked around his legs, dragging him back down. His futile attempts to escape left his nails bloodied and scratched against the pavement. The darkness was growing and his chest was hurting so much Bruce could no longer breath. The monsters still screeched and shrieked at him, their unholy sounds vibrating through his skull.

Down, down, he went, until ...

" Tt, you're finally awake."

Bruce opened his eyes.

He was in his room (even though his room didn't look quite like _his_ room anymore), lying in the bed, covered in sweat and feeling thirsty. He lifted his head, wincing as he happened to jostle his arm which was in a sling.

Damian, the scowling boy he met earlier with Dick, was sitting at the end of his bed, still scowling. He casually set aside the book he had been reading. " It's been three days since you were coherent," he said in way of an explanation.

Which still didn't explain much. " What happened?" Bruce groaned, wiggling himself to a sitting position. His entire body shook with the exertion and he felt completely exhausted like he had ran a marathon.

The boy stared at him with a severe expression. Bruce tried not to frown back. The resemblance between them was uncanny. The same cheekbones. Same forehead. Eyebrows that crinkled the same way. And distantly, Bruce couldn't help but wonder if perhaps this boy was his long-lost brother that his parents kept hidden all these years.

" You were exposed to the Scarecrow's toxin," he said. At Bruce's blank look, he sighed in a long-suffering tone. " You were hallucinating after breathing in a dangerous amount of fear gas that was caused by a madman. It took considerable time for us to administer the antidote."

Things still didn't quite make sense but Bruce accepted it for now.

His stomach then gave a loud rumble. Bruce flushed with embarrassment. Damian clucked his tongue disapprovingly but jerked his head to the bedside table " Pennyworth was glad to provide you with some sustenance."

Said sustenance was a large amount of food that Bruce couldn't hope to finish on his own.

" I best be on my way," Damian crisply said. " I have other matters to attend to and Drake is hopeless at managing yo – my father's corporation."

He stuttered slightly at the end but Bruce didn't notice it. He had been hoping Damian would stay and keep him company. After all, there were very few boys his age for him to speak to. As much as he liked Alfred, Dick and Tim, they weren't his age. " Can't you stay a bit longer?" he asked. He gestured to the food with his good arm. " I don't mind sharing the food."

Damian was taken back. He shifted, looking uncomfortable for the first time. " Fine," he said without as much heat as he meant to.

They ate in silence. Bruce noticed Damian glancing at him every so often but he always looked away when he caught Bruce's eye. " Is something wrong?" Bruce finally asked.

" Tt." The boy made another grunt. He said nothing for a moment, almost hesitating, before speaking. " Have you ever considered having children?" he blurted out, rushed and hurried like he bitterly detested the words.

He wasn't sure what to say to that. He hadn't even thought of having children yet. But the long nights on his own since his parents' death made him desperately wish that his parents would have given him another sibling.

" Yes," he slowly said and it made Damian snap his head up. " I don't mind having a big family. I would like to have lots of kids running around here someday." He smiled at Damian. " I hope I'll be a good father like my dad. He was the best."

Damian stopped looking at him, staring at his own plate. For a minute, Bruce thought he said something wrong. He was about to apologize when Damian quietly asked, " Tell me more about my – your father."

Bruce was understandably confused but complied anyways.

~.~.~

It was still early in the morning and the sun had not risen yet when Tim returned from patrol and spotted Bruce sitting in the living room, staring at a blank television screen.

" Hey there," he softly said. Bruce looked at him with wide eyes. Tim could see the beginning of dark circles underneath them. " Why are you doing still up?"

The natural answer was of course nightmares. Alfred had mentioned before that Bruce at that age couldn't sleep, refused to sleep for months after his parents' death.

Instead Bruce stirred and muttered, " I couldn't stop thinking about that – that crocodile man."

 _" You smell like Batman," the hulking monster rumbled. Tim could feel Bruce's quick, harsh breathing against his back as the boy clung to his arm. He shifted, pressing Bruce closer to the wall as if his body alone was enough to shield the boy from any harm. He only hoped the darkness was enough of a small protection to shield them from Killer Croc's eyes._

 _" It doesn't matter. Whether Batman knows you or not. I'm going to enjoy a light snack right now. After all, my momma told me to never waste good food."_

Any normal kid would have had nightmares after dealing with Killer Croc. Tim remembered the first time he encountered the monster and for a good week, he wasn't able to eat any meat. Tim only wished that he had gotten Bruce away faster.

" You were very brave," Tim gently said. Even when his own heart was pounding so hard he thought it might burst out of his chest at the thought of Bruce being hurt and he would be helpless to prevent it, Bruce still had his wits about him as they blindly ran and groped in the dark, trying to find their way out of the sewers without being eaten.

" He was angry." Bruce suppressed a shudder, remembering how Killer Croc roared his fury once they managed to escape his scaly clutches by a split second. " That man was lashing out."

Tim noticed it was the second time Bruce referred to Killer Croc as a "man" and not a "monster" or a "freak" as so many others, including himself, had used.

" I ... I feel sorry for him," Bruce murmured. At Tim's incredulous look, he hurried to explain. " I can't imagine what it must be like – to look and act like that all the time. You heard him. He said he had a mother. Perhaps she treated him horribly and it made him into this. If someone treated him kindly, things could have been different."

Some things don't change, Tim mused once he had gotten over his disbelief. When it came down to it, Batman was all about saving people, all kinds of people, to prevent the tragedy that Bruce himself had experienced. The Bruce he knew might not have spoken out loud about it, but there was always a hint of empathy and compassion in his eyes for even the lowest of the Rogue Gallery he encountered on a frequent basis.

" Come on then," Tim finally said. " Let's get you back to bed. Alfred will have my head for keeping you up any longer."

When Bruce didn't move from his spot, he sighed and tried a different tactic. " You know, I'm sure I can find something for you to watch in my room instead of this." He waved a hand over the blank television. Because if he knew Bruce, he wouldn't show of any weakness out of a stubborn sense of pride.

Bruce slowly nodded and followed him back to his room where Tim set up Grey Ghost episodes he managed to scrape up. Even as Tim remained awake on his bed, he could feel Bruce's head slowly leaning against his shoulder as the boy finally was beginning to drift off to sleep.

Tim hardly remembered the last time Jack Drake had done this with him, where he had stayed in bed next to his father, curled up next to him as the sun rose. He had done it once before with the adult Bruce, after a particular grueling night and Bruce would never say a word, simply allowing him to grip hand around Bruce's wrist, just to know he was there.

He reached beside him and grasped Bruce's hand, just to let him know someone was there. And despite having fallen asleep, Bruce knew instinctively to intertwine his fingers over Tim's.

~.~.~

It would have been easy, so easy, to pull the trigger now, Jason reasoned. Place a bullet in between the Joker's eyes before he so much blinked.

Bruce – his Bruce – would have (should have) understood. Jason was protecting his younger self right now. If he let Joker kill him, Bruce would be dead. And the Joker wouldn't have even realized he just killed his greatest enemy. There was something funny that out of all the Gotham citizens Joker could have chosen to parade around the city as his hostage, he still managed to drag Batman down with him.

" What's the matter, buddy, old pal?" the Joker trilled. " Just waiting for me to make a move first? I assure you, if that's the case, I'll make it nice and slow. Make sure the kid gets a big smile in the end."

His hand gave Bruce a little shake, causing the boy's teeth to rattle. The knife in his other hand glinted in the moonlight, resting casually against Bruce's exposed neck.

Jason raised his gun slightly higher. A small part of him knew the Joker was trying to get under his skin, like so many other times, getting him to cross the line. And the rest of Jason had no problem doing it, even ready to taste the sweet satisfaction of killing the man who tortured and murdered him.

There was a hiccough and Jason found it hard not to look at Bruce, who barely came up to his elbow, who was pale and shivering and tiny against the splashes of color of the Joker's clothing. He looked helpless and terrified, something Batman never was. It was so jarring and disconcerting it set every nerve in Jason's body alight.

This Bruce didn't know him, didn't recognize the red mask that protected his identity. And Jason was certain Dick and the others wouldn't have told this Bruce about him, to protect him from any ugly reminders or memories that would occur.

But then, he realized Bruce wasn't only terrified of the Joker. He was scared of _Jason_ too.

He had been staring at the gun in Jason's hands with wide-eyed horror. It was hard to remember that this Bruce was only eight, still freshly traumatized from his parents' deaths, still frightened by guns and bats and other scary things that most children would be of.

Jason hesitated and that was all the Joker needed.

In that brief moment, the Joker moved the knife.

The gun fired.

The Joker reeled back.

The knife dropped.

Bruce fell.

A spray of blood scattered in the air.

And all Jason could see was red.

He managed to grab Bruce before he collapsed. The Joker was screeching, whether in pain or laughter, Jason didn't care. The bullet found its way to the Joker's shoulder, burrowing deep into his collarbone but it was no less than what that bastard deserved.

Jason was sorely tempted to end the Joker's life with another shot when he heard Bruce's choked gurgles and he was violently snapped back to the reality of the situation.

The Joker managed to cut into Bruce's neck.

He quickly lowered Bruce to the ground. Bruce gasped for breath, scratching at Jason's arm, trying to find some relief and comfort in his panic and pain. The blood from his throat bubbled and burst.

" Don't talk," Jason ordered him, hoping his voice was trembling as much as Bruce was currently. His hands – _keep them steady, keep them from shaking, he taught you better than this_ – pressed against Bruce's neck, trying to stop the blood flow. " Just stay still."

The police officers, late as usual, swarmed the top of the building. Some went to secure the Joker but others remained, staring at him in horror. Whether it was because they recognized they had the Red Hood within the vicinity or that there was a little kid bleeding out before their eyes, Jason didn't know and didn't care.

" Dear God," someone choked out.

" Get the paramedics here now!" Gordon tersely snapped out.

His hands hadn't removed themselves from the cut. Jason could feel the slick wetness and warmth of blood trickling through his fingers, even as he kept the pressure. Bruce's eyes were dimming, his harsh whimpers becoming more quiet.

" Stay with me Bruce!" The voice that came out of his mouth was pleading and child-like. It sounded so foreign that Jason didn't recognize his own voice.

 _Don't leave me again_ , came an unbidden thought.

The paramedics came eventually and took Bruce away. Jason was left standing with blood-stained hands. The rest of the cops gave him a wide berth, uncertain how he would react. Gordon was the only one brave enough to approach him. " The kid's going to be taken care of," he kindly said. " Did you know him?"

" No." The words were flat and before Gordon could say anything else, Jason disappeared over the edge and into the night.

~.~.~

There was a strange woman with cat-like goggles standing in the kitchen.

In hindsight, Bruce should have backtracked and ran for Alfred or Dick. Because if that woman was able to enter into the house without anyone hearing, she must be dangerous. He already had his fair share of being kidnapped and held hostage by several lunatics just in the past few weeks. He didn't intend to have it happen again anytime soon.

But something about the expression on the woman's face made him stopped. He wondered why she looked so sad.

" Bruce?"

He blinked in confusion. " Have we met before?" Because he would have remembered her. Those goggles were very memorable.

" Yes." She said the word carefully. She didn't stop staring at him. It made him fidget uncomfortably.

Suddenly, her eyes sparkled impishly with an idea that made Bruce react with wariness. " Say, kid, you hungry?"

Was that why she chose to meet him in the kitchen? " I guess?" he shrugged. He was hoping to sneak in a few snacks before bedtime since Alfred wasn't around.

She grinned and Bruce wondered how such a pretty woman could have look so solemn before. " I know just the place."

A note left on the kitchen table and almost fifteen minutes later on a motorcycle and against his better judgement, Bruce and the mysterious woman arrived to a small diner. " Ahh, Miss Kyle. Edging in a midnight snack before we close?" an elderly waitress greeted. She tilted her head curiously at Bruce. " Who is this gentleman? A new date for tonight?"

Bruce blushed. The now named Miss Kyle smirked and it wasn't before long, they found themselves seated in a cozy booth with several plates of cheesecake and pies, with coffee for Miss Kyle and a milkshake for Bruce.

" _Is_ this a date?" he asked suspiciously. She didn't reply, only smiling mischievously before helping herself to a slice of pie.

" This is great!" Bruce's eyes lit up as he dug into the cheesecake. " We should bring Dick, Tim, Damian and Alfred here!"

" At this rate, you might as well invite the whole Justice League," she dryly said.

" The Justice League?"

"It's not polite to talk with your mouth full."

They continued to eat, passing light banter back and forth. Bruce felt at peace, able to ease up the restlessness he had felt since that fateful night. And the woman was smiling a lot more too. Something just clicked between them. She would tease and he would joke back and then they would laugh before their little game of cat and mouse continued anew.

The "date" ended too soon and Miss Kyle drove him back home with both their stomachs full.

" I wish we could have done this more," she murmured, more to herself than Bruce. He would have liked to ask her what she meant but they were driving quickly and the wind carried his words away.

As predicted, Alfred and Dick were standing by the front porch as they drove in and didn't look all too pleased that Bruce had been spirited away without their consent. " It is past your bedtime, Master Bruce," Alfred pointedly said in a tone that dissuaded any argument.

He sighed but obeyed, allowing Alfred to usher him up the stairs. Dick was speaking to Miss Kyle, his voice too low to be heard but his shoulders were stiff. Miss Kyle had her arms crossed and her entire body posture rippled of irritation.

Hoping to relieve some of the tension, Bruce called down the stairs." Thank you Miss Kyle, for tonight. It was fun."

Dick and Miss Kyle stopped in their conversation to look at him. He smiled at their surprised and amused expressions and gave her a farewell wave before heading back to the door where Alfred was waiting.

" Selina."

He turned around. She jerked her head up towards him, almost like a dare. " Don't forget about me," she winked.

Bruce never did back down from a challenge. " I won't, Selina," he promised.


End file.
